


My Compass.

by CelebrateTheFreedom



Series: Writing Prompts Challenge [7]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutesy, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelebrateTheFreedom/pseuds/CelebrateTheFreedom
Summary: “My best man, this one right here.” He would say loudly, sometimes he got up on the tables or on the bar top, yelling his love, his gratitude to Steve, who had saved him more times than he could count. His hero.Later those nights, Steve would lay by his side and remind Bucky he only saved him once. Bucky only shakes his head as if Steve is completely nuts. Steve never got it. Until now.ORThe one where Bucky comes back to Steve and they pine for each other.





	My Compass.

Ever since Bucky came back he felt it was hard to talk about his memories. They came back to him slowly and every time he tried to talk to Steve about it he froze. He couldn’t get a word out of his mouth.

Don't get him wrong, he trusted Steve with his whole being, but after talking to his therapist they figured it was just another side of his trauma. Being conditioned for so long by Hydra made him refuse to externalize what he wanted or remembered. It was getting better over time, but still not perfect.

They decided Bucky could try to write about it. So it was what he did. He wrote Steve letters about the old times. Little things here and there. Bucky felt like telling a story and it became much easier for him to open up. He could even talk about it now, just about some things, but it was progress.

The first time he wrote a letter he cried for two hours. It had been a silly memory he had of him and Steve playing on the streets of Brooklyn, he wrote down everything in detail, what he remember they were wearing, how long they stayed out that day before their parents called them to come in, how dirty their clothes had been by the end of the day.

Steve held him the whole time, Bucky could tell he cried a bit, too. After they calmed down, Steve told Bucky it had really happened and added his own memories from that day. It became their thing. When Bucky wrote a letter, he gave it to Steve, who read them and then they’d cuddle and talked about it.

He woke up that morning feeling like the dream he had was more of a memory. He was thoughtful throughout the best part of the morning. Steve approached him later that day, sat by him on the couch and handed him a paper and a pen. He had that soft smile on his face and a gentle look on his eyes.

Bucky felt like he could spend the rest of his life looking at Steve and still not get tired of it. He touched the side of the man’s neck, fond.

“Thanks, Stevie.” Steve beamed at him and, as he got up, Steve responded with a squeeze on his hand and a wink.

He headed to their office/ art room. Taking a deep breath, he sat down and placed the paper on the table. He began writing.

*

They had been all over Europe by now and had this weekend off. He and Steve went to bars those nights, Steve couldn’t get drunk and Bucky was too scared that it took him drinking almost the triple to get haft as drunk as he used to.

It wasn’t the best way to deal with his problems, but some nights he just wished he could drown in drinks and forget this war and his feelings for the man beside him. He sighed and asked the bartender for another dose.

The thing was, every time he got drunk he put up a show. He would start yelling praises to Steve, “My best man, this one right here.” He would say it loudly, sometimes he got up on the tables or on the bar top, yelling his love, his gratitude to Steve, who had saved him more times than he could count.

Steve would try to shut him up if it got too much, but overall let Bucky do what he did with so much as a blush on his cheeks. It would usually get them free drinks for their service, some laughs and a couple of weird stares.

Bucky never said anything compromising, he wasn’t as out of it as it seemed. The alcohol just made his braver, or more stupid. It depends on the point of view. Steve would shake his head and sling an arm around Bucky’s neck the next day. It also scared him that he never got hungover. He used to be mostly dead after drinking that much the previous night.

Nowadays, Bucky was scared of many things and tried to think about them as little as possible. He was scared of how fast his injuries healed, almost as fast as Steve’s. How he couldn’t get properly drunk, how his nightmares were less about the war and more about being strapped down to that table and injected something he didn’t know what was. He was scared of telling Steve any of this and the man getting too weirded out by him.

The last one he knew was silly. Steve would never think less of him because of that. He knew it down to his bones, but his mind was messed up these days. He wondered if confessing his feelings would be the breaking point of his and Steve’s friendship. He wishes he could be sure it wouldn't be. He wished things were different.

They were in this bar in France today. Bucky was on his way to getting as drunk as he could and Steve sipped on his beer while they talked the night away. As the night went on, Bucky’s voice got louder and louder, his smiles easier to come by. He got up on his chair, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Me and Steve, everyone, we’re bother’s in arms and we love each other.” He paused raising his glass, voice slightly slurred. Steve almost sputtered the beer he had been drinking.“This man saved me more times then I can count, and that’s fucking beautiful.” And finished his small speech by yelling from the top of his lungs. “CHEERS AND FUCK YOU TO THIS MOTHERFUCKING WAR.” People in the bar cheered. Everybody more drunk than sober.

Later that night, Steve, as usual, laid by his side. They were used to sharing a bed. Or a cot. Or some small space they could lay and rest. It wasn’t that big of a deal during the war. You do what you could to survive. And in those cold nights, it meant sleeping close to share warmth.

Bucky wished with all his being that it wasn’t the only reason why they did it. But it was all wishful thinking. Steve didn’t see him this way. Steve wasn’t like him and Bucky had long made peace with that. Steve was a good man who would marry a good woman. Maybe that woman was agent Carter and if that was the case, he would happily watch him move on with his life.

Steve sighed beside him, he shifted on the bed until they were facing each other.

*

Bucky frowned looking at the letter he was writing. He couldn’t remember what Steve told him that night. He remembers his lips moving and wanting to lean in to kiss him. He remembers frowning and saying something back. He doesn’t know what.

His head starts throbbing. Sometimes it happens. If he tries to force a memory to come back or be clearer his whole body rejects it, his head hurts and he was to stop. He took a deep breath reading what he wrote. It was the telling of that night blow by blow, how they arrived at the bar, what they drank, what he said and what he remembers his feelings about it being.

He never wrote about his feelings for Steve, always abstracting it from the facts. It wouldn't make any good for him to know. Many things had changed, but this wasn’t one of them. Their relationship now, if he dared to say, was stronger than it had ever been. What they’d been through brought them together. They shared this deep understanding of the other that Bucky sometimes thought was a bit odd, but reveled in it anyway.

He got up and walked to the kitchen, where Steve stood seemingly preparing their dinner. Bucky leaned against his back, hugging him from behind. Steve pressed against Bucky as he rested his chin on the blond's shoulder, taking a look at what Steve was preparing.

“Smells good,” Bucky commented.

“I just took a shower.” Steve sounded ridiculously amused. Bucky poked him on the ribs, Steve laughed.

“I finished writing.” Bucky murmured still plastered to Steve’s back.

“Do you want me to read it now?” Steve said, turning slightly to look at Bucky.

“After dinner.” Bucky let Steve go and stretched.

“I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Dinner's ready in 15 minutes.”

“I'll try to be quick.” He smirked at Steve and walked to his bedroom.

 

Bucky got out of the ensuite bathroom at the same time Steve opened the bedroom door.

“Uh,” Steve sucked in a breath looking at Bucky’s slightly wet chest, hair still soaked letting small droplets of water run over from his shoulder to his hips. He seemed to get a grip on himself and blushed as he everted his to look at Bucky’s face, who looked amused.

“Dinner's ready.” He finally spluttered and closed the door, walking away with rosy cheeks. Bucky thought he heard Steve mutter “get a fucking grip on yourself, Rogers” and smiled as he put on a pair of sweatpants he was almost sure was Steve’s.

Dinner was uneventful, food was delicious, and he told Steve as much. They ate in companionable silence. After having some ice-cream for dessert, Steve sat on the couch to read Bucky’s letter and Bucky headed to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

Bucky was almost finished when Steve said he had finished reading and was heading to his bedroom, he would wait for Bucky there. It didn’t take long for Bucky to join him. The sight of Steve under the comforter did things to his heart.

He got on the bed and under the comforter in the blink of an eye, putting his head on Steve’s chest, an arm around his waist, and a leg over his. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as Steve started running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“I never understood when you said that I saved you more times you could count.” Steve murmured sounding lost in his thoughts.

“You did, Steve.” He turned his head until his chin touched Steve’s chest and he could look the man in the eyes.

“But,-” Steve frowned. “Yeah, I got you out of Azzano, sure. But after it wasn’t me saving you, it was us fighting together.”

Bucky smiled. Steve didn’t _get it._

“You saved me every day, Steve.” He paused. It would probably give him away, but he needed Steve to understand. “Not from the war, but from myself.”

Steve looked a bit stunned. Bucky wouldn’t be able to say it all if he was looking straight at him, so he went back to laying his head on his chest, listening to Steve’s heartbeat.

“Even before the war, Stevie.” Bucky gulped. “You always were what got me going. You gave me purpose. You still do. You always will. You’re my compass.”

He could hear Steve’s heartbeat pick up. “I-“ Bucky wasn’t brave enough, he continued anyway.

“It's been hard, you know it has, you’ve been here with me. But you make me feel like there’s still something inside of me that’s worth it.”

Steve hugged Bucky close, kissing the top on his head. Bucky relished the contact.

“All of you is worth it, Bucky.” He said still squeezing him close. “You save me too, you know?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Always have, Buck. Before, when I was too sick to do anything every winter, you made me want to fight for my life. When I became Captain America and was just a dancing monkey, you gave me a reason. Now, you give purpose. But throughout our whole lives, you made me feel like I belong. You make me feel like I have a place in this world. And it’s being by your side. Being with you always brings out the best in me.”

Bucky sniffled. Damn Steve and his speeches. Tears still streaming down his eyes, Bucky swung his leg over Steve’s hip to give him leverage to hover over him, his arms holding him up by Steve’s head.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered. Steve reached up to wipe away Bucky’s tears.

“And I love you, too.” Steve still had his hands on Bucky’s face. He put a strand of hair behind his ear. He sighed. “More than I should.”

Bucky blinked, eyebrows arched in surprise. Steve smiled sadly at him. That couldn’t be happening. It was a dream. It was everything he ever wanted.

Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve softly. He made a surprised noise.

Steve slid his hands to Bucky’s neck and held him closer.

“I've wanted this for so long,” Bucky said between kisses. Steve rolled them so he was on top.

“We have it now.” _Always an optimistic asshole_ , Bucky thought. But was too content to voice it. Steve was right. They had it now, and he would never let it go.


End file.
